


Extended Family 3: Feathered Visitors

by Setcheti



Series: Extended Family [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hot Fuzz (2007)
Genre: Bad Dumbledore, M/M, Young Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:43:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setcheti/pseuds/Setcheti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day after Harry's eleventh birthday, an owl flew through an open window.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Extended Family 3: Feathered Visitors

**Author's Note:**

> No, I have no idea if an actual owl would actually eat a prawn crisp. I know *I* won’t eat prawn crisps, but then I’m not an owl so that probably doesn’t help you any.

The day after Harry’s eleventh birthday, an owl flew through an open window and right into the kitchen where the boy was having an afternoon snack with his Uncle Danny. The owl was brown, a big brindled barn owl with intelligent gold eyes, and it had a thick envelope clutched in its claws; it dropped the envelope on the table before it landed, cocking its head to look at Harry. “You’re pretty,” he told it. The owl made a chuffing noise and preened some feathers, and the boy’s face blossomed in a smile. “He understood me!”

“Yeah, I think he did.” Which could be a bad thing or a good thing, although Danny didn’t say that part out loud. He got the only thing available from the counter, a sack of prawn crisps, and let Harry offer one to the owl, which took it and ate it after a moment’s consideration and then hooted for more which Harry happily fed to him. In the meantime, Danny picked up the envelope and looked at it. Heavy cream-colored paper, expensive-looking, sealed with red wax and an unusual crest, and “Harold James Potter, Address Unknown” written in flowing script on the front in emerald-green ink. Danny got a butter knife out of the drawer and carefully prised up the wax seal, withdrawing several folded sheets of matching cream-colored paper. He read the top one and frowned, then looked at the owl. “Did you need to take a response back? ‘Cause we’ll need to talk about this.” The owl hooed softly, almost seeming to shrug, and then nudged the crisps bag again, making both Danny and Harry laugh. “You can stick around if you want,” he told it. “We don’t have a barn for you, but we’ve got a crawlspace attic under the eaves and there’s woods and fields you can hunt mice in nearby – just watch for guns, this is the country and everybody’s packin’ ‘round here.”

The owl swiveled its head, and Danny was struck by the intelligence in its eyes, the way it was looking at him as though measuring his worth. And then it gave a little hop forward and rubbed its feathered head against Harry’s cheek, hooing softly when he raised a cautious hand to stroke it. “You’re so soft, and so pretty,” the boy crooned, enraptured. “You can stay with us as long as you like.” The owl snuggled up to him again for that, then hopped back and gave another peck at the crisps bag, making him laugh. “You can have one more, and then you have to go find a mouse – if crisps aren’t so good for me, they can’t be all that good for you either.” The owl cocked its head at him, questioning that, and Harry laughed again. “No, really. Uncle Nick told me that. Too many crisps are bad for you.”

“They are,” Danny confirmed. “Sorry, it’s true, mate. Too many of ‘em make your arteries harden. I wouldn’t know how mice score on that, but I’d guess they’re healthier for you, bein’ natural and all.”

The owl appeared to consider that for a moment, and then it gave a little flap of its wings, hooed pleasantly at Harry, and jumped to the windowsill and took off up over the top of the house. Harry looked at his uncle, who shrugged. “We’ll show it to your Uncle Nick when he gets home,” he said, pushing the letters over so that Harry could look at them himself. “But I already know what he’s gonna say when he gets a load of that school supply list. A wand and a cauldron, really?”

Three weeks and two more owls later, Nick and Danny were even more decided that they wanted absolutely nothing to do with the school called Hogwarts. Quite obviously something was wrong with the place. For one, all of the letters were addressed to Harry Potter at Unknown – meaning it was an automated system which no one was apparently monitoring for accuracy. Secondly, the list of first-year classes with its attendant list of required supplies contained nothing even remotely related to modern education. And thirdly…none of the owls seemed to have wanted to go back, because they were all still there at the house and seemed very happy about it. In fact, directly after the appearance of the third owl, the owls had conducted some sort of hooing conversation together and then the least recent one had done a crap on top of the most recent letter and they’d all flown off to the woods together. So apparently even the school’s messenger birds didn’t think much of Hogwarts.

Or at the very least, of the person at Hogwarts who was sending them out with the letters.

Another fruitless search for Vernon and Petunia Dursley had turned up nothing. Albus dropped heavily into his comfortable chair and took a mental accounting of everything that had gone wrong.

One letter sent magically to appear with the Muggle mail at the Dursley’s house, which the tracking spells had registered as undeliverable. Albus had assumed that the Dursleys had gone on vacation for the summer and chosen another method of delivery.

Three more letters sent by owl, none of which had come back – the owls or the letters. Tracking spells on the owls had simply stopped registering altogether, leaving no way to tell where they had gone.

And now he finds out that it was going to be impossible to send a person – he’d been thinking Hagrid –because the only address available was Unknown. Wherever Harry Potter was, he was protected by a phenomenally strong Fidelius charm. The boy could be anywhere on earth.

He, Albus Dumbledore, had lost the savior of the Wizarding World. Could things get any worse? 

Harry was outside playing ball with his uncles when he suddenly stopped dead, cocking his head like he’d heard something. A golden spark appeared and then exploded some five feet away into an absolutely beautiful golden-feathered bird which let out a single, piercing cry something like the call of a peacock. It hovered in front of Harry, who – having been well-trained by the owls – held out his leather-guarded arm for it to land on. The bird took the offered perch, looking into his eyes, then took off again and circled him twice while trilling out a lovely happy song. And then it landed on his shoulder and rubbed its head against his cheek.

Nick and Danny looked at each other. “I don’t think this one is going to be living in the woods eating mice,” Nick commented.

“Most likely not,” Danny agreed. “Somehow I don’t think it’s gonna want a cage, either.”

“No, most likely not.”

Harry walked over to them, being careful not to unbalance the new bird with any sudden movements. His green eyes were very wide. “Uncle Nick, Uncle Danny…this is Fawkes. He’s a phoenix.”

“Course he is,” Danny said. “Hallo, Fawkes.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Nick told the bird, which not all that surprisingly nodded in response. “Harry, how did you…”

“He’s talking to me, sort of,” Harry said. “He says he’s here to be my friend.”

“His familiar?” Nick asked, and Fawkes trilled happily. “Well, I suppose that’s all right, then. But I doubt he eats mice like the owls, so we’ll need to figure out what to feed him and what you’ll need to take proper care of him…” Fawkes launched off of Harry’s shoulder and vanished with a pop, and Nick started. “What…” Then there was another pop, right in front of him, and the phoenix dropped an ancient-looking leather-bound book into his hands before landing back on Harry’s shoulder and preening itself in a very satisfied manner. Nick looked at the cover of the book and then showed it to Danny. “The Care and Feeding of the Noble Phoenix,” he read. “Well, I suppose that answers that question. Thank you, Fawkes, that was very helpful. Why don’t we all go inside and figure out what we need to do next.”

By the end of the first week, Fawkes was very pleased with how things were working out. He’d gotten the three renegade owls into order, using them to keep an eye on the village and the surrounding warded countryside. He’d taken the measure of the boy’s magical development and decided on how best to direct his training over the coming months, approving especially of the fact that Harry was in no way dependent upon a specially made wand to control his magic. He’d discovered that Harry was also in no way dependent on his magic to accomplish things, which was even better. From Fawkes’ point of view, ‘modern’ wizards had turned into a bunch of stick-waving ponces who could barely tie their own shoes without using a spell to make the knot. And the boy’s two male guardians were quite acceptable and entirely supportive, as well as being very protective. The phoenix was especially anticipating the eventual meeting of Nick and Albus, mainly in hopes of seeing Albus get his ass handed to him by the much younger and mostly non-magical man, preferably very quickly by means of judo because that would be highly embarrassing to the old wizard and also highly entertaining for Fawkes to watch. And Fawkes was most especially pleased with Danny, who had come up with the idea for his disguise – because it wasn’t like Harry could go walking around town with a golden phoenix on his shoulder.

A mynah bird, however, barely drew two blinks from anyone – and it was a form that allowed Fawkes to talk out loud in human speech if he wanted or needed to. The phoenix’s former companion, of course, would never even have considered having him disguise himself because he’d wanted people to see him having a golden phoenix on his shoulder and judge his worth accordingly. Fawkes did wonder how Albus was explaining the lack of a phoenix to the people around him; it was absolutely scandalous in the Wizarding world to lose one’s familiar, and if the circumstances were the least bit suspicious it could even warrant investigation. Yes, Albus was doubtless having an interesting time trying to come up with a reason that wouldn’t land him in serious trouble.

And that wouldn’t lead to him having to admit that Fawkes hadn’t actually been his familiar, of course. 


End file.
